This is an entry in HEROISM: THE OGGBASHAN MEMORIAL EVENT 2023. This story features my recurring character Matt (a muscular, well-hung, 26-year-old sex addicted male exhibitionist) recalling his brief, casual, but ultimately deeply fulfilling relationship with a quietly heroic single mother. This is a CFNM story featuring male nudity, female-of-male body worship, male-of-female body worship, and one-on-one sexual activity. This is a work of complete fiction. All characters are over eighteen. I am endeavouring to write a CFNM "Oz Beach Boy" story in every Literotica category. This entry: "Erotic Couplings".
---------------------------------------
It was a cool autumn's night in Sydney, Australia. I was lying naked in the king-size bed of my girlfriend, Odessa Prince. We'd had incredible sex an hour before, and my gorgeous partner was quietly sleeping, her perfect, pyjama-clad body buried beneath the rumpled bedsheets and blankets.
I was incredibly satisfied by the great sex we'd just enjoyed, and also by the deepening bond that was growing between Odessa and I. I was, however, a little unsettled, and I was having trouble sleeping. A couple of things were playing on my mind, and it was keeping me up despite the general sense of peace and pleasure that I'd been luxuriating in for the last couple of months.
Two events had sent my mind into a rare flurry of over-activity. A literary figure who I admired had passed away earlier that day, and I was saddened both by the obvious loss to his family, and also by the fact that I would no longer be able to enjoy the author's wry, intelligent, entertaining novels of suspense that frequently featured unlikely heroes battling corrupt, seemingly all-powerful systems and organisations.
The media had also lately been filled with stories about an Australian military hero who had recently experienced a major and very public fall from grace. Once viewed as a brave soldier who personified everything admirable about the military, this man -- big in both stature and presence -- had been revealed as a brutish killer of innocents.
It was a deeply disturbing and extremely polarising story, and it provoked a heated, multi-layered debate right across the Australian media. The whole sad and sorry affair had been playing on my mind a lot.
The convergence of these two events had me thinking a lot about heroism, and the many forms it took. In the case of these two men, the pen did indeed appear to be mightier than the sword, with the muscle and physical strength of one man uncovered as meaningless, while the intelligence and creativity of another would hopefully live on forever, long after his sad passing.
Lying restlessly in bed next to Odessa, I recognised the decency, sensitivity and passion of my quietly heroic girlfriend, who always stood up for what she thought was right, and who frequently placed herself in the corner of society's underdogs and marginalised through her regular charity work.
I thought too of my equally quietly heroic best friend, confidante and one-time foster sister, Darby Hamilton, who had emerged from a horrific childhood in foster care and state institutions as a strong young woman with a true sense of social justice.
As a lesbian, Darby had experienced discrimination and difficulty throughout her life, but she always rose above it with grace and good humour, and campaigned vigorously for many organisations dedicated to promoting the rights of those in the LGBTQIA+ communities. Darby Hamilton was a champion, and I was overjoyed to have her in my life.
My mind, however, kept drifting back to someone I didn't know nearly as well as Darby and Odessa. Before I started my relationship with Odessa, I'd been enjoying casual sexual relationships with a number of women, and the most bewitching of the group was unquestionably Monica Halsey, a single mother I met while doing volunteer work the previous Christmas at The Neil Hamilton Fairley Hospital.
Though we only met occasionally for very, very warm and enjoyable sex, I had grown to deeply respect and admire the beautiful Monica Halsey. Aged in her very early forties, Monica was the mother of Archie, a freckle-faced eleven-year-old boy courageously battling leukaemia.
Despite the awful situation in which she'd been placed, Monica was always friendly and funny and up for a laugh. Bringing her a cup of tea in the afternoon was literally the highlight of my day volunteering at the hospital.
I'd never seen Archie's father around, and I later learned that this spineless prick had run out on Monica and Archie, too weak of heart to stand by his family when they really needed him. Instead, this apparently high-flying financial advisor had taken up with a woman half his age, and was frequently late in making his family support payments, despite clearly enjoying a flashy, fancy lifestyle.
Though I'm a fairly freewheeling, decidedly unwholesome, often sleazy and immoral narcissist myself, the shitty behaviour of Monica's ex-husband, Carl, was an absolute affront to me.
While many in Australia apparently admired this piss-weak big-shot for his career success, financial wealth, good looks, and regular appearances in the social pages, Carl Halsey was worthy only of utter contempt in my opinion. He might have gotten all the attention, but Monica was definitely the hero in their relationship.
I was at The Neil Hamilton Fairley Hospital to volunteer and do the right thing, but I just couldn't help noticing how profoundly appealing Monica Halsey was. A fair bit older than me but sexy in a reserved, casual kind of way, Monica had long, mousy brown hair frequently pulled back in a ponytail. She had lively brown eyes and strong, sharp features, which were charmingly accentuated by the stylish tortoise-shell glasses she always wore.
An accountant by trade, Monica also had a very cheeky, naughty side as well, which she displayed in full-force when she surprisingly asked me to perform a "Sexy Santa" strip show for her and four of the other mothers on the children's ward...all in a safely locked room well away from the kids, of course! [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy's Xmas Hospital Strip"]
Though fairly outrageous, this kind of behaviour was pretty much par-for-the-course for me at the time. Though not clinically diagnosed as such, I'm most certainly addicted to sex. I'm a 26-year-old narcissistic Aussie male exhibitionist who loves getting nude, preferably with women watching me. That's my kink, and it's taken me to some truly bizarre places.
I spend hours training to get my body as ripped and muscular as I possibly can. Though partially for health and fitness purposes, my workout regime is principally designed to get my rig as shredded as possible in order to attract as much female attention as I can.
I like to show off and put myself in potentially sexy situations, particularly around Sydney's many beaches and secluded coastal bays. I'm in a near perpetual state of horniness, and I've enjoyed a lot of sordid sex and many, many kinky hook-ups in my time.
All of that, however, got parked when Odessa and I agreed to embark upon a relationship together. She wanted us to be monogamous, and even though I knew it would be difficult, I agreed because I was so incredibly taken with her. [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy & Odessa Come Together"]
Last Christmas, however, it was Monica Halsey who I was very taken with. We had very hot, passionate sex at the hospital right after my silly but highly arousing strip show, coming together in a truly amazing way.
We then continued to see each other afterwards for a little while until Monica started a relationship with a handsome doctor treating Archie. Thankfully that meant I didn't have to break things off with her when I started seeing Odessa, which would have really hurt.
With Archie in hospital and prior to our respective relationships, Monica and I would meet occasionally for sex at her small apartment, and we always had a great, wonderfully warm time.
In the moments before our sexy trysts, and afterwards when we lay around peacefully in each other's arms, I got to learn more and more about Monica. The pretty divorcee had things tough, and I was always happy to be a sounding board.
With Monica's shitbag husband pretty much out of the picture, the pressure was all on her when it came to Archie's care. Monica was there every day at the hospital, keeping her son as amused and comfortable as she could, while also dealing with complicated medical instructions and advice.
On top of Archie's constant care, Monica also kept her one-woman accounting business on track, often working deep into the night, only to get up early the next morning to travel into the hospital so she could be there to eat breakfast with her son. That was important to Monica, and she never missed the morning meal.
Tough and unyielding, Monica Halsey did it all with a smile. And if her own considerable travails weren't enough to deal with, Monica spent her occasional spare moments at the hospital checking in on the other kids when their parents couldn't be there, and also looking after the parents themselves, frequently talking them down from the proverbial ledge when their grief and sadness felt like it was becoming too much. Monica Halsey was an absolute trooper.
My own fucked up, party girl of a mother gave me up when I was just a baby -- leading to a precarious childhood spent in foster care and state institutions -- which is perhaps part of the reason why I responded so strongly to Monica, and why I respected and admired her so much for what she did for Archie.
I was extremely happy when Monica suggested we hook up again after our first glorious fuck at the hospital, and we got together several times, enjoying each other's bodies and losing ourselves in our strong sense of sexual connection...regardless of how casual it was.
Monica often said that I was like sexual respite, a welcome break from her sadness-filled life. We both knew our relationship would never become serious, and we were both fine with that; there was no dishonesty or false hope when it came to Monica and I. We liked to fuck and have fun; she well and truly deserved a good time, and I was more than happy to provide it.
As I lay next to the sleeping Odessa in the darkness of the bedroom, I guiltily tracked across my various trysts with Monica Halsey. Though they were all fun, one of our sexual meetings really stood out, for both its prolonged eroticism and also for how good it really made me feel...both during and after.
It all started with a text. I was at home in my underwear drinking a beer and watching a particularly brutal WWE match on TV. I'd just jerked off over Megan Thee Stallion's sexy
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit photo spread, and I was happy just relaxing when my phone buzzed.
"Hey Matt...shit day...u busy?" read Monica's text. "Wanna come over and make me feel gooooooood?" This was followed by a succession of smiley face, prayer hands, and eggplant emojis.
